


If the Cliché Fits

by Authumnder



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authumnder/pseuds/Authumnder
Summary: “Leon,” Matt called, quietly, staring him right in the eyes. “I’m not the only one who feels this, right?”“What,” Leon replied, “the hatred?”(Or, Matt blackmailed Leon into being his plus-one and it went, uh, as well as you'd expect.)
Relationships: Leon Draisaitl/Matthew Tkachuk
Comments: 9
Kudos: 162





	If the Cliché Fits

**Author's Note:**

> I just _had_ to jump on the bandwagon, especially after that [gif](https://twitter.com/oliviaylin/status/1221259458866831360?s=19) of Leon mumbling _fuck you_ like askhdldfjfg the energy??? Oh and also this [tweet.](https://twitter.com/mlrich4/status/1221280633852395521?s=19) Anyway so here, have this, hope you enjoy!

Leon was late. Leon was five-minutes-before-boarding-time late, and if he didn’t arrive within that five minute then he was going to be missing-his-plane-altogether late, which meant he lied to Matt as well as breaking their _agreed _arrangement, which also meant he was _ruining _Matt’s weekend even before it started. 

The loudspeakers mounted all round the airport crackled back to life and announced the last two minutes of boarding time, as if Matt hadn’t panicked enough. Weirdly, the lady’s voice sounded twice more threatening than it was earlier, causing Matt to start worrying over his lower lip and then biting onto it when it wasn’t enough. 

He was contemplating not getting into that plane, ignoring the million reasons why he, one of the groomsmen for the damned destination wedding, can’t do that, when he finally saw Leon walking calmly towards departures. _Fuck that guy_, Matt grumbled to himself as he gathered his carry-on and hurriedly followed him, and then _be nice!!!,_ when Leon only spared him a sideways glare before looking ahead again. 

Already this plan looked like a disaster waiting to happen. No, scratch that, this was more like a disaster _about _to happen. 

“Thought you weren’t gonna show up,” Matt said, as a way to start a conversation, which was stupid considering conversation was _never _going to be their forte. Judging by Leon’s reaction (another glare), he seemed to just agree with that. “Fine. Alright. Shutting up now.” 

Except Matt was never great with shutting up, so he began talking again after they both were comfortably seated. 

“I heard it’s really hot over there,” 

Silent. 

“I made sure to pack only my thinnest shirts and shorts—well, suits too, ‘cause there’s gonna be a formal dinner and reception, but the other activities planned aren’t as formal so I guess wearing—”

“I don’t actually give a fuck,” Leon cut in. He looked like it, too, honestly. 

“That’s fair,” Matt said. 

To say that Matt had been looking forward to the wedding would be the biggest lie of the year—or, one of it, at the very least, because trust him when he said he _lied _a lot. Lying was like, a requirement in his line of work. You just couldn’t sell the stuff your company made to that many people without spicing them up a bit, or a lot, depending on the customers. Anyway, Matt had not been anticipating it. At all. In fact, he dreaded it so much that he only agreed to attend after he asked literally the person who hated him the most in the whole world to accompany him.

Wait, ‘asking’ would be the wrong word to use, ‘blackmailing’ was more like it, actually.

It wasn’t that Matt wasn’t happy for Ritter. He was. He was totally glad that one of his closest friends had finally decided to tie the knot, to the point that he’d begun to cry in happiness right after Ritter hung up, having informed him of the plan and save-the-date. Well, that wasn’t exactly done _happily_, now that Matt thought about it. 

It was just that somewhere along the way, young and naive Matt had caught feelings for Ritter, and Ritter, humoring him, had kissed him passionately after his dumb confession, which finally lead to months of hooking up and acting like a romantically involved couple. Except Matt hadn’t known that it was just hooking up, and thus started the hopeless dreams and wishful delusions. Embarrassingly, Matt only found out it was the way it was after Ritter met his soon-to-be-wife and invited him to have lunch with them, and then proceeded to French kiss her in front of everybody and their gods by the end of it. 

The saddest thing was, Matt didn’t even know how to address Ritter following the tragedy. For a while then he hadn’t been able to look Ritter in the eyes and treat him like a friend, it was honestly pure fluke that Ritter hadn’t noticed, or Matt would’ve been forced to bury himself alive, if the shame hadn’t caught him first. At the end it was Matt’s move to Edmonton that allowed him to get it together again, enough that he could finally see Ritter’s face on the screen of his phone when they FaceTime each other without feeling as though his heart had slipped to his feet. 

Matt had never told anybody that sob story before, choosing to bury it and planning to bring it to the grave—too shameful and pitiful, he’d reason, unwilling to uncover that stupid, childish side of himself. That was until Ritter’s call, two years later. 

The idea of showing up alone to Ritter’s wedding was stomachache-inducing to Matt. He didn’t even know why, he couldn’t explain it, it just was. At first he’d tried to ask around his friend circle, but no one was free the weekend of the event, not even after Matt had lured them with a promise of free booze and vacation. He’d even stooped lower by asking his brother Brady, but the fucker didn’t answer his phone or read his texts, so Matt deemed him a lost cause as well. Not that he actually wanted Brady’s company for that whole weekend—he shuddered just thinking about it—but as unpleasant as it would be, Brady’s existence would probably block some unwanted feelings from rising, and Matt needed that blockage like he needed oxygen. 

Here was when Leon finally came into picture. 

To say that Leon hated Matt would be an understatement of the year, because for some reason the guy _despised _Matt’s existence like someone would a mosquito, except a hundred times more passionately (in the negative sense), and had always treated Matt like a plague in the office. Matt had always wondered the reason behind it, and his first year here he’d even gathered enough courage to confront Leon about it. Leon’s answer? 

“Fucking fuck off and get away from my face, you fucking pest.” 

Matt’d immediately stopped trying to make sense of Leon’s hatred after that. He could take a hint just fine, thanks. 

Meanwhile the whole office had always thought of their so-called ‘rivalry’ as amusing and funny. Matt would definitely laugh too had he not been on the other end of Leon’s murderous glare every time. It was less funny that way, Matt doubted anyone would find it in themselves to laugh while facing Leon’s laser eyes. 

Why, then, had Matt chosen Leon to be his plus-one for the wedding? 

Answer: pop-up porn. 

Okay, so, prefacing that, let’s establish the fact that Matt wasn’t a bad person. He was not... exactly good, per se, but he was never horrible either. It was just that... sometimes... he took advantages of things when he saw the chance, and a lot of times his actions were considered unethical by the people around him, and he guessed yes; they were, at some level. He was fine owning up to them, but hear him out: wasn’t life unethical like that, anyway? He totally wouldn’t worry his pretty little head about it too much. 

So, Matt wasn’t a bad person, yes? Agreed? Okay, good. Let’s go back to the pop-up porn. For the last few months, the computers in the office got regularly infected with virus from the internet. It was so bad to the point that IT had started sending various e-mails threatening everyone to please, for the love of god, stop accessing illegal porn websites in the workplace. When it didn’t work, HR stepped in and gathered everyone in the hall and did a presentation regarding time management and workplace ethics and some shit like that. It was, to sum it up, a hell, and yet the virus hadn’t stopped coming. 

Anyway, everyone was still on thin fucking ice when Matt caught Leon slipping. 

(In reality, Matt fully doubted that Leon was the one who had downloaded all those viruses before. Had you seen him? He was like, actual sex on legs, there was no way he would have any trouble getting someone into his bed, meaning he wouldn’t need to consume that _much _porn.)

As it was, Matt had been walking behind Leon’s cubicle when it occurred, and Matt, being the opportune bastard that he was, happened to have his phone on hand and thus, the recording in which Leon (allegedly accidentally) clicked on a pop-up porn advertisement was born. 

The rest—which included the part where he begged and finally blackmailed Leon into agreeing to come with him to Ritter’s wedding—was history. 

A rental car was waiting for them outside the airport when they landed, which was a huge blessing because Matt wasn’t sure he could take another jab from Leon whenever he spoke and Matt just couldn’t shut up that much longer, okay? The driver was nice and accommodating, though Matt could still feel the blaze of Leon’s glower on the back of his neck. He tried to his best ability to ignore it, up until the hotel, where everything, _literally everything_, went to hell. 

Ritter (or his soon-to-be wife, or whoever dealt with rooming assignment) must’ve assumed that Matt’s plus one was his significant other—which wasn’t exactly surprising really, considering—and so had arranged a room with only a king for them.

“I’m not sharing that fucking bed with you,” Leon said before Matt could even drop his carry-on, still standing on the threshold. He shot another murderous glare at Matt as he did so, as if his foul language and posturing weren’t enough to show Matt how unhappy he was about this arrangement.

There wasn’t even a sofa in the room. Fuck.

Without waiting for a reply, Leon already unpacked his case and shoved it into the empty wardrobe, then jumped into the middle of the bed face first and didn’t move at all.

Well. Matt couldn’t even get mad back at him because a) Matt was, technically and practically, the one responsible for anything and everything that could go wrong here because, b) Leon was only here to protect his job, which Matt had ungraciously threatened had he refused to come here with Matt. Leon had every right to that king size _and_ more.

“I guess I’ll just see what I can do,” Matt replied, to no one in particular since Leon was obviously ignoring his existence. That’s fine, Matt told himself. He didn’t need his blockage to actually _talk_, remember? He hoped Leon’s antagonistic demeanor would help take Matt’s mind off... off everything that was gonna happen after this. Off Ritter, more importantly. Wow, that sounded fucking bleak and depressing. Matt couldn’t believe he was still this bitter about it.

Thankfully it wasn’t that far away from dinner, meaning they don’t have to spend too much time in the same room, meaning less chance for a fight to happen. Matt claimed the shower first, taking his time as he did, and then some more as he tried to tame his hair only to give up halfway. Good hair just wasn’t going to happen tonight, apparently.

Matt was buttoning his suit jacket when Leon got out of the bathroom wearing—Matt squinted—a band t-shirt. An _old _band t-shirt with a hole in the neck. 

“Dude,” Matt began, trying to control his voice because the chance of Leon actually listening to him? None. He’d accepted that since this morning in the airport. “We’re going to the formal dinner and in the schedule it was said—”

“Do I look like I give a single fuck,” Leon said without even looking at Matt.

“Well,” Matt tried, and then gave up. “Can you at least wear something with it? I don’t know, like a jacket, maybe?”

It wasn’t like Matt actually _care _about this stuff. He didn’t, really, it was just that everyone would be there including Ritter and Ritter’s family and Matt didn’t want to show up like he didn’t give a single—

Well, shit. Turned out Matt still pretty much cared about what Ritter might think of him. He thought he’d gone past that phase a while ago, how embarrassing. He turned to Leon again and was about to open his mouth again to say, _fuck it, let’s just go_, or something along that line, but Leon beat him to it.

“Fine, Jesus. I’ll wear a blazer.” He muttered harshly, snatching said clothing from his bag and pulling it on. “Happy?”

Matt wasn’t, really. There wasn’t anything particularly pleasant about this situation, but he could tell that Leon was _trying_, and he appreciated that. He guessed his face must’ve done something because Leon flinched when he turned.

“Fuck, that’s creepy,” Leon said, frowning at Matt, “never look at me like that again.”

Everyone, as expected, was wearing their Sunday outfits when they arrived. Matt was glad Leon hadn’t been as adamant about his rebellion as he’d expected him to be—he’d said to Matt’s face that he was going to make Matt’s weekend a living_ hell_ when the blackmail thing was happening, after all. They were seated at the very back of the room, which Matt was grateful and sad for. The former because that meant easy access if things got too much. The latter because he guessed the farther the seating, the least important the person to the happy couple was. 

Matt wondered if Ritter made him one of the groomsmen because he felt bad. It was plausible thinking, in Matt’s opinion, since it wasn’t like they’ve been in close contact since last year. In fact, that wedding call was the first in many months, which. Matt didn’t want to think about.

“That the groom?” Leon’s voice shook Matt out of his reverie. He pointed at a man all the way to the front of the room, and yep, that was the groom alright.

Matt nodded. He hadn’t expected it, but seeing Ritter again after so long still managed to make his heart lodge itself in his throat. It wasn’t a nice feeling, but Matt couldn’t look away.

“Pft,” snorted Leon. “He isn’t even that good looking.”

“Hey,” Matt chastised, though he wasn’t very sure for what. He watched as Ritter moved around people, all smiles and graciousness. “Don’t say shit about my friend,”

“Friend, huh,” Leon said with a mocking tone. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Matt replied. His voice didn’t betray him, thank god, because he wouldn’t be able to stomach the thought of Leon _knowing_. “A good friend.”

“_Sure_,”

It was only when desserts had been served and he couldn’t put it off even later that Matt decided to approach the happy couple. He didn’t expect Leon to actually go with him, but he stood up along with Matt, and though Matt was pretty sure the only reason he’d do so was to embarrass Matt in front of Ritter, he was still kind of grateful for it.

Ritter hugged him as a greeting, smiling widely, and his soon-to-be-wide did as well, thanking him for coming. It was so obvious how _honestly _happy they were, and Matt—Matt felt hopeless with how much he wanted to be happy for them, because clearly they deserved it, but instead he felt like throwing up, back to that night after that lunch, sleeping under three blankets because he’d kept shivering, unable to stop. 

He was so caught up in his own emotions that he forgot Leon’s very unwilling yet helpful existence, introducing him kind of awkwardly, trailing off after he said, “Leon’s my...”

“Boyfriend.” Leon filled in the blank, and when Matt turned his head at him so quick he got whiplash, he was smiling this wide, all teeth and scarily genuine smile.

“You don’t have to do that,” Matt told Leon later, when they were walking back to their room, away from the festivities. They hadn’t stayed for long, immediately aiming for the door after shaking hands with Ritter and his bride.

Leon rolled his eyes, though this time he didn’t seem to be very hostile about it. “Wasn’t that the reason I’m here?” he asked. “To show your ex that you’ve moved on and happily in relationship with a guy totally out of your league?”

“You’re not out of my league,” Matt sputtered. “And that wasn’t why you’re here. I just needed a friend. And Ritter is not my ex.”

“Lies.” Leon simply replied. “So many lies.”

“I’m not lying!”

“_Suuure_,” Leon said.

“You’re a child.” Matt said. “First of all, Ritter is really not my ex. We’ve never dated or in a relationship that can be broken up. So you’re not here because I want to show you off to him. I just wanted to have some sort of blockage while I’m here—”

“Blockage?” Leon intervened. “What do you mean blockage?”

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that aloud. “Well, it’s a long story,” Matt said, which of course was the wrong thing to say because he could see Leon’s ears perking up to that.

“I have time,” Leon said. “And I doubt you’re that excited to go back to sleep on the floor.”

Oh, right, the sleeping situation. Haven’t handled that, and obviously couldn’t handle that now that Leon had announced very loudly about the nature of their ‘relationship’. Well, then.

“I, uh, I liked him a lot back then. Like, two years ago? It was, um, a mess because I wasn’t good at hiding things from him, and we were really close, so anyway it didn’t stay a secret for long. I wish it did. I wish none of it happened the way it did.”

Fuck, was he really doing this? A day ago he’d been sure he was bringing this thing to the grave and yet here he was, unable to stop spilling. To _Leon_, out of all people. They were still in the backyard of the hotel, away from both the hall where the dinner was held and the rooms, and the wind was nice against his skin. Matt felt like he could breathe again, which was a weird sentiment, wasn’t like he hadn’t been able to breathe earlier.

“What happened?”

So Matt told him; the big picture, at least, censoring the details and the late nights and then the sobbing aftermath. It was less dramatic like that, less woeful, but you wouldn’t have thought that looking at the pinched look on Leon’s face.

“If you’re that fucked up about it,” Leon said, “why did you come here?”

_I’m not fucked up about it_ was already on the tip of Matt’s tongue, but he realized that he probably was, which wasn’t a comforting thought, that Leon noticed it before he could, that it was apparently obvious to anyone.

“I’m not, like, in love with him or anything,” Matt said, which was true. He wasn’t, even all those months back then. It wasn’t the kind of feelings you’d call love. “And I can’t just not come, can I?”

“Sure you can,” Leon answered. “You two live in different cities. The wedding’s like, 200 miles away from home, you totally can come up with some bullshit reason to not be here. Wait, you’re not thinking of this as some sort of a closure, are you?”

Matt definitely wasn’t. He’d just come because not coming had never crossed his mind, because Ritter’d sounded terribly happy on that phone call, and never could Matt imagine saying no to that invitation. Plus, closure had been two years ago, when he was hauling his shit to the airport during his move.

“Why’d you like him anyway?” Leon asked again.

“I didn’t know you were such a chatterbox,” Matt said, then, quietly, “He could pick me up like, super effortlessly.”

Leon burst out laughing. “Are you fucking serious,” he said. “That’s not a legitimate reason to fall for someone!”

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Matt replied, which didn’t make sense whatsoever, but.

As predicted, Matt ended up sleeping on the floor with one (1) pillow and a thin sheet in place of a mattress, as generously lent by Leon, who looked smug and comfortable as fuck under the duvet. Though Matt must’ve been more exhausted than he’d initially thought because sleep came easily to him.

The last thing he heard before fading was Leon viciously saying, “Night, fucker. Hope you wake up with terrible back pain.”

The next day’s activity, which was a baking class, wasn’t much better, in the sense that it was so boring and obviously addressed for people with actual baking experience, not for people like Matt whose involvement in the kitchen was limited to frying sausage and eggs and making toasts.

“I didn’t know cake was supposed to be this dense,” Leon said.

“That’s because it’s not supposed to, Mr. Draisaitl,” the teacher replied, scrunching her nose subtly at the brown abomination Leon had presented as his cake. Then she turned to Matt’s portion of the table and her expression went even darker.

There was also a visit to the local brewery, which Matt had been looking forward to, though in the end it was also proven to be a bust.

“If I had to listen to any more discussion about best Kama Sutra positions for maximum pleasure, I’m gonna head over there and drink straight from the barrel.” Leon complained loudly, probably hoping the ladies would hear him and change the topics to something more child-friendly. The ladies definitely heard him.

They didn’t switch the topics.

“You’re gonna get killed if you do that,” Matt replied, mildly.

Leon gestured at him with a finger gun. “That’s the point, yes.” He said, completely seriously.

The third day, AKA D-day, was much more hectic. Matt was summoned early in the morning—apparently the groomsmen were gathered together to give the groom some moral support or whatever the fuck, Matt wasn’t sure—and had to leave his room while Leon was still buried comfortably under the duvet. 

“Leon, wake up,” Matt called, once, twice. Leon didn’t even twitch. Matt would gladly just leave him be, except there were instructions regarding transportation to the venue and Matt fully doubted Leon knew about any of them. Dude would probably be glad to miss the wedding altogether, honestly, and Matt couldn’t have that, could he? The wedding was the whole reason Leon was here.

Matt tried to shake him, but Leon only swatted his hand away without even moving his face away from the pillow. God, Matt missed having a bed.

“Dude! Wake up!”

Finally, Leon turned onto his back, opening his eyes blearily and immediately squinted upon catching Matt. How the guy managed to still appear so menacing with a bedhead and red eyes, Matt didn’t know.

“What?” he barked. There was no other word for it. Matt could practically feel the venom dripping.

“I have to leave now,” Matt told him, taking a step back away from the bed in precaution, in case Leon wanted to smack him.

“So what?” Leon replied. “You want a kiss goodbye or something?”

Matt rolled his eyes. “No, asshole,” he said, then proceeded to tell him the plan. He left soon after Leon nodded his head yes and hummed ‘uh-huh’ (though in a way that showed that he totally wasn’t listening). When Matt turned to look at him again he was well back under the blanket.

Whatever, Leon was a grown up, he could figure shit himself.

Perhaps a part of Matt had doubts that Leon would actually show up, because he was a little surprised when he caught the sight of him in the venue later on. Leon had navy suits on, impeccable and almost untouched by the look of it, all good looks and confidence. He was what Matt’s mom would usually call “nice, handsome guy,” and what Matt would call “cocky asshole.”

Leon looked good, though. That, Matt couldn’t deny.

Seemed like Leon finally caught sight of him, because now he was cutting the distance between them in a way that indicate some level of... eagerness, though Leon would probably throw a tantrum all wounded and insulted if Matt ever tell him that.

“Please tell me you have some sort of any other vehicle to transport back to the hotel beside the fucking minibus,” he said as he snatched Matt’s elbow and dragged him to the side. “That was the worst fucking bus ride in my life,”

“What happened?” Matt asked, kind of wary now. Leon seemed super worked up, the same way he did the first time Matt’d stolen a customer from him. Matt would never _wish _for a repeat.

“They asked me who I’m here with,”

Matt didn’t see any problem with that. “So?”

“So, finding out that I am with another man, they started asking me questions.”

Shit. Matt immediately knew where this was heading. “What’d they say,” he asked.

“They were interested in _gay sex_, Tkachuk, I am not telling you what kind.” Leon said, clearly distressed. Then, as if changing his mind, he added, “The _penetrative _kind.”

Matt shuddered. Yeah, he could imagine how that’d go. “What’d you say,” he said.

“Nothing!” Leon said, suddenly looking vaguely flushed.

Matt would pretty much like to dig deeper into that, but he’d still like to get back to Edmonton alive and intact, thanks, so he dropped it. 

When it was time for the couple to exchange vows, Leon slipped him a pack of tissue.

“What’s this for?” Matt asked quietly.

“For when you need to cry your heart out,” Leon said with an annoying smirk. “No need to be modest on my behalf.” 

“Asshole,” Matt said, rolling his eyes, but didn’t return the tissue. “Where’d you get this anyway?” 

Leon shrugged. “Some ladies in the bus were giving them out,” he said, then, before Matt could think of a reply, someone in the row before theirs shushed loudly, effectively shutting them up. 

The reception was also better than Matt had thought. There was an open bar, for one, and a bunch of delicious food free to be consumed. Matt was fine with having to stay around for another hour or so, he decided. 

That was until the dancing. 

By then he had been a step farther from tipsy, and Matt guessed Leon wasn’t that far off because he didn’t slap Matt’s invitation to dance right away, agreeing to it instead. Anyone from work would probably be willing to pay great money to watch them. 

“I didn’t feel that bad,” Matt said, a few minutes into the dance. It was the slow kind, which definitely would be a hundred times more awkward had they had been sober. 

“About?” Leon asked, swaying into Matt a bit. He didn’t seem to notice. 

“This. The wedding. Ritter.” Matt said. “You know.” 

“Really? Damn, I was hoping to watch you suffer,” 

Matt deliberately stepped on his foot, smiling sweetly when Leon glared at him. “Thanks, Leon,”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” 

They stayed for the next round, the one after that, then the DJ played _Kiss Me _by Sixpence None the Richer and there was no way Matt was going to leave the dance floor. It was nice, anyway, dancing with Leon, the way they kind of fit together, even if they both were such terrible dancers who kept stepping on each other’s toes. Then Matt started looking back to the past few days—and surprised himself when he thought they weren’t necessarily bad, either, and that was saying _a lot_, considering Matt had been sleeping on the floor all of those nights. 

“I’m sorry for blackmailing you,” Matt said, the words spilling from his mouth without his permission. “That was a really shitty thing to do.” 

“That’s because you’re a dirtbag,” Leon replied easily. 

“I already deleted the recording, by the way,” Matt said. “Long before we left Edmonton. Even if you hadn’t showed up to the airport, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.” 

“What, can’t live with the reality that you’re nothing but blackmailing fucker?” 

“No,” Matt laughed, throwing his head back. “My thumb just slipped and I accidentally clicked the delete button.” 

Leon hit him, glaring, but then he started laughing as well. “I fucking hate you, you know that?” he said in between fits. 

“Yeah,” Matt said, “I know.” 

They continued swaying like that for a few moments, in complete silence save from the soothing love song playing in the background, and Matt was suddenly overcome with the urge to _say something_, even though he knew very well how conversations usually went between them. 

“Leon,” Matt called, quietly, staring him right in the eyes. “I’m not the only one who feels this, right?” 

“What, the hatred?” Leon said, but he must’ve understood what Matt actually meant anyway, because he added, “I don’t know. You’re still unbearable as hell and I can’t stand you,”

Matt smiled, then his gaze dropped to Leon’s mouth and it was as if all his restraints went loose at the same time, because he didn’t even try to hold himself back from leaning closer and placing a barely there kiss on the corner of Leon’s lips. 

It wasn’t even a kiss, but it might as well be, watching as Leon’s eyes turned darker, flashing with the kind of fervency Matt would’ve never thought would be directed at him, _ever_. 

Needless to say, Matt didn’t have to sleep on the floor that night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Then, like a week later, Matt stole a customer from Leon again and all hell _broke loose._
> 
> [Tumblr](http://sideswiped.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk!


End file.
